


Swan Song

by choosinghope



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, writing about life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 03:18:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7342531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choosinghope/pseuds/choosinghope





	1. Prologue (kind of)

There is a girl, with mysterious eyes, and lips so full. 

There is a girl, who does not know mercy, nor love. 

There is a girl, with a heart so cold and a mind of a devil. 

This girl, though she is evil and wicked, though she is cold and dark, though she is vicious and cruel, will make you fall in love with her, everyday more than the other. 

She will not try too hard, for you will trip and fall in her trap no matter what. 

But I am asking you, to watch your steps and avoid her traps. 

This girl, will torment you and torture your heart. 

This girl will haunt you and crush your soul. 

This girl will never love you just the way she never loved me. 

I am asking you to avoid her traps and turn her down, not because of what she is, but because you cant love her as much as I do.


	2. Chapter 2

Emily was the most complicated person I knew. I had never been in a serious relationship before her, and she was, still is perfect. I knew from the moment I first started talking to her that she was the one for me. She was so kind, and beautiful, and she listened to what I said, which was something that I wasn’t really used to. I don’t know the exact date she started drifting away from me, but I realized it around four months before we broke up. But I loved her so much that I never asked her why, I didn’t want to make her leave so I kept my mouth shut. She stopped answering my texts, and was really vague whenever she did text me. I never knew where she was, she never answered my calls, her mom stopped talking to me, she pretty much had cut me off from her life, but I was in love with her so I clung onto the hope that maybe she had a good explanation for doing so. I’m pretty sure she had blocked me on facebook before she gave it to me when we first met, and being the paranoid person I am, when I started to be insecure about our relationship after a friend made a comment about how we were doing, I made another account so I could see what she was doing.

That was the best and worst thing I could have done, because I found out she was cheating on me. I’ve seen a lot of movies and read a lot of books where the main character is cheated on, and their reactions vary between sadness and anger, and they typically have an emotional breakdown at some point, and meet someone better and everyone’s happy, but that’s not how this felt. It was numbing, as if my brain stopped. All thoughts halted, and it was like my brain couldn’t complete a sente .  
And it never stops hurting… I gave her the best of me, and before my very eyes I watched her choose someone else.

Without Emily, I don’t know. I don’t know who to tell anymore when I find new music, and I don’t know where I’m gonna express how much I love them, and who’s gonna agree with me and, who I’m gonna listen to it with while I fall asleep and who’s going to hear about my day and my test grades, and how long I napped, and what I ate for dinner, and what movie I watched and, the interesting things I learned in class, and how much I hate politics, and when I didn’t read the assignment for English, and how I went to get food with friends instead of jogging laps in gym, and how productive I was studying that night, and who’s going to listen to me sing my favorite bands and then sing with me, and take walks with me in the summer on the most beautiful days, and who’s going to do that all and care about it. 

I don’t know.

And after a few days it hit me that Emily and I were no longer together, and it killed me. My friend told me to just not think about it, to stop feeling the pain, but to tell someone not to be emotional is to tell them to be dead, but at that point I was ready to welcome death. I was alive, but not living, I was on autopilot, stuck in a corner of my mind, in my brain. And what breaks my heart even more is that she’s always on my mind, but I’m never on her’s.

But I met this new girl, Jill. Jill is amazing, and fuck… we’re just friends but I want to be so much more… She’s in my 3 am late night thoughts and I can ever get her out of my head why did she have to be so nice to me? When I’m with her I forget about the pain, which is almost as good as not being in pain at all. Jill just might as well put a gun to my head now, and paint the walls with my brains, because I can tell already that she’s going to be the death of me. It would be a privilege to have my heart broken by her, and as sadistic as it sounds, I would still let her. But then again this is the same thing I thought when I met Emily. I keep wishing she [Emily] had come with a warning label plastered across her forehead:

Warning: will cause major heartbreak

The worst part of it all is that even if she were a flashing danger sign, telling me to proceed with caution, because right around the next sharp turn are taken back “I love you’s” and pretty girl’s spit lingering on my mouth from her and the constant threat of a goodbye, I still would’ve crashed right into her without slowing down. You know what, I probably would have sped up. She was a mistake, but perhaps she’s the best mistake I’ve ever made. And I worry about the day I get tired, tired of chasing after love, tired of caring, tired of worrying. Not because of the fact that I won’t feel some of the basic human emotions anymore, but because I will be in so much pain that I shut those emotions down. That it wasn’t a choice but a shot at self defense. 

I think of Jill a lot. She’s so perfect and I hate it! I hate the way that I crave her attention. I hate the way that I need her acceptance. I hate that I don’t know if I want to date her or be friends with her. I hate that I can’t tell if she likes me or if she just see me as a friend. And the thing I hate the most is, I hate that I think that nobody likes me, because it sucks being this insecure about everything. People have, and still do, make fun of me for it, I pretend that I don’t hear, that I don’t realize that they’re not actually my friends, but whatever. Who needs people? I do, because I’m severely insecure about my friendships and need constant validation that they actually want to be my friend.

Sometimes I miss the days when I used to drink to get through the day, At least then my life had purpose, whereas now I can’t even think of a reason to get out of bed; but then I think of Jill, and I get that one ounce I need to get up, but then I remember she is not mine, she never will be, and one day she will be someone else’s, and I’d rather go to her funeral than her wedding. For that I fucking despise myself. I keep telling myself that I don’t love her, but that’s a lie, I do love her.

On the topic of thinking of hating myself, I suddenly remember the pinnacle of my depression. It was 2012, and I had severe insecurities about my body. I eat when I’m stressed or sad, so beginning of seventh grade I was 5’4 weighed nearly 150 pounds. Every time I changed, I wanted to just get a knife and cut off all my fat. All my friends were skinny, and pretty, and had boyfriends, but guys just liked to laugh at me. I wanted to die, and there wasn’t a day that year that I hadn’t thought about it, but I have a day because of that, that I will never forget.

The 6th of November, 2012 at 10:42pm and I tried to kill myself. 

You know sometimes I suppose I am happy. Like when I am with my friends, throwing my head back and covering my mouth as I shake with laughter at a joke someone just said. But then day turns to night and my carefree grin turns into an inexplicable sadness, etched on my face like a tattoo. And I lay in bed, thinking about all the things I wish I could say, all the things I'm too afraid to admit, even with only pen and paper and mind, it's nights like these that I realize: 

I am many things. 

I am happy and sad, 

outgoing and shy, 

rambunctious and quiet.

But mostly, I am just an empty shell of what I used to be.

I can’t stop thinking of Jill. I don’t want to make things complicated like last time, but fuck, how am I supposed to act like I don’t still feel like that. How am I supposed to say hello without it sounding a little like I love you? I want to wear her sweatshirt to bed, watch scary movies with her, talk on the phone till sunrise, sneak out at night to look at the stars with her, play her favorite video game, make her watch chick flicks, kiss her in the rain, go on walks with her, laugh until I can’t breathe, hold hands, build a fort and have a snowball fight. I want to fall hopelessly in love with her, but maybe I’m already there. I fall deeper in love with her everyday. 

People write love like it’s a beautiful poem, even though some love stories end in tragedy; they make their broken hearts sound beautiful. But I know more than that. I know that love can tear your heart out at 3 a.m. when you hear the worst news of your life. I know that love can rip your heart out of your chest like a butcher tearing apart an animal. I know that after your heart is in broken pieces, your ribcage shattered under the weight of protecting nothing. I know that even after you’ve convinced yourself it’s okay, you still find yourself struggling to breath because they were your life line. And it’s okay if all you did that day was breathe, because even breathing gets harder, but it will get better. 

Love isn’t beautiful, 

Love is a fucking tragedy that we’ve all become addicted to. 


End file.
